I Lack A Certain Understanding
by Auttzthoughtz
Summary: Sherlock lacks a certain understanding of how sentiment affects the mind, and how to deal with the changes. Johnlock.


Sherlock doesn't understand it. He doesn't do feelings, he just doesn't. They are messy and they don't fit right in deduction measures when it comes to himself, so he never takes the time or effort towards them. His companionship with John is the closest he's ever come to another human being in his life, and that was starting to become slightly more complicated.

Sometimes when John was around Sherlock noticed changes in his posture, in the way he examined John's appearance day-by-day. Some days he almost felt shy around John, and if nothing else Sherlock prided himself in being utterly forthcoming in speech.

Sherlock has opted not to focus on that as he reads through cold case files every night in between cases. He won't go to sleep, he won't even think of sleep – sleep has become a time for his mind to wander in dreams about John. It unnerves him, so he has decided ultimately the solution was to not sleep and try to keep his mind otherwise occupied.

It takes three weeks for John to notice the change. At three in the morning, John's begging Sherlock to sleep. "It's not right, Sherlock, it's just not healthy."

"I am perfectly healthy," Sherlock says calmly, flipping another page from another cold-case file. John sighs, reaching out and pulling the file away from Sherlock to grasp the detective's attention. Sherlock looks up, an unamused frown posed on his face. "I was about ready to solve that one."

"It's been three weeks, Sherlock, _three_. I don't care that you are Sherlock bloody Holmes, that is too long for any human to go without sleep," John says, closing the file in his hand.

"I am perfectly aware that it's been twenty-one days, John, and as you can see I am perfectly fine," Sherlock says, though the rare spots of grey under his eyes show that he's lying. "Now, John, give me back the file" Sherlock asks, clearly showing more of his frustration to John as he reaches out for the file.

John reaches his arm further back. "You can have it back in the morning."

"It's three a.m. John, it is the morning," Sherlock says, putting out his hand mockingly waiting for the paper to drop in his hand.

"I mean after you have slept and you know that," John says firmly. "Come on, up, I am taking you to bed."

Sherlock smiles and nods, knowing there are more cold-case files in his room. Sherlock gets to the stairs before he stops in his tracks. "John, this is the way to your room."

"I'm perfectly aware of that Sherlock," John replies, putting the case file on the closest end table.

Sherlock gulps, trying to collect a rational thought that doesn't add up to a fantasy. His mind draws blanks as he contemplates the filthy reasons John could want to bring him to his bed. He speaks with as much composure as he can muster. "Why?"

John notices the confusion on Sherlock and it makes him chuckle. "I am taking you up there because I know you will just stay awake in your room and read case files if I take you to your bed, so I want to make sure you actually get some sleep."

"Oh," Sherlock replies slowly, starting his way up the stairs, hiding the fact that he is, in fact, blushing.

John takes a few breaths before following Sherlock up the stairs to the door of his room. "Why – what did you think I was going to say?"

Sherlock doesn't look back in John's direction as he opens the door and answers. "It's not important."

"I think it might be," John replies as Sherlock and him enter the room. "Come on Sherlock, why won't you look at me?"

Sherlock takes a moment, hoping he's composed himself enough as he turns around. "I am looking at you, looking at you – and now I am going to go lay down. That's what you wanted, right?"

John nods, a frown forming on his face. What the hell is going on with Sherlock? He's acting like a fourteen year old kid who's got a crush for the first time around John. Then it hits John, harder than he'd perhaps like to admit it did. Of course Sherlock would act like someone who's having a first crush, for all John knows it could be his very first crush. He can't process it properly so he's acting childish about it, like many other things.

John allows a smile to slowly form on his face as he climbs into bed beside Sherlock. He resumes acting normal, to keep Sherlock most comfortable. "I don't want you to get huffy about this. I just want you to get some sleep so that you remain healthy, and start looking your age again."

"What do you mean 'to look my age again'?" Sherlock asks as he rolls over to look at John.

John laughs softly as he brings his hand forward to run his fingers gently over the grey bags forming under Sherlock's eyes. "Your eyes, looking more tired than intelligent and invigorated, that's a dead giveaway someone's either getting tired or getting very, very old."

Sherlock's lips twist slowly into a grin. "Well, Doctor Watson, your eyes definitely look your age – perhaps a bit older, even."

"Hey, watch it, I am trying to be nice," John says defensively. "Now stop criticizing how I look and start getting to sleep."

"I never meant it to criticize," Sherlock replies carefully before letting his eyes slip closed.

John waits until he hears a very soft change in Sherlock's breathing and sees Sherlock actually fall into a deep sleep to even try to lie back down properly and fall asleep himself.

It is a few hours later when Sherlock wakes John back up. Not purposefully, really. Sherlock is just dreaming another one of his dreams. John wakes up to the calling of his name. "Sherlock, hey, calm down."

John looks over to the clock and groans. "It's only been three hours, go back to sleep." He shifts over to glance at Sherlock to find that he's still asleep.

Once again, Sherlock pleas the doctor's name through his lips in a way John can faintly recognize. It's a few times before John finds himself relaxing to the rhythm of the mantra, watching Sherlock with a loving smile plastered on his face that he can't seem to strip away if he wanted to. His eyes eventually fluttered shut as his hands found a comfortable grasp over Sherlock. It was soon followed by their bodies falling together in a loosely comfortable embrace, a welcomed notion in both their unconscious minds.

It was almost a full day later that Sherlock woke up slowly, his eyes blinking a few times to re-adjust to the light coming through the windows. John was still huddled around him, his head bent into the crook of his neck peacefully as he kept on in slumber.

Sherlock took a few breaths, trying to escape to his mind palace from the emotions that threatened to come bursting out. But it wasn't becoming sated. He felt loved, and it was a feeling that on the deepest level of his mind he never thought he could admit he _craved_ more than any drug.

John wakes up as Sherlock attempts to show affection through running his long fingers through John's short hair. John blinks a few times before he pulls back just enough to look up at Sherlock. The detective immediately looks alarmed and his hand pauses on John's head. "Not good?"

John knew immediately that Sherlock wasn't just asking if the gesture was welcome, but if the emotion behind it was okay to John. It was a big question that Sherlock could barely process, and John knew the best way to approach it was to be gentle. "It's, uh, a bit awkward," John starts, and Sherlock nods as he begins to pull his hand away. John shakes his head, taking Sherlock's hand into both of his. "The intention, however, is appreciated."

Sherlock nods again. "I hope you realize, John, I have no idea what I am doing."

"Glad to know there's something I am better with than you, at least somewhat," John jokes.

It causes a shy smile to emerge on Sherlock's face. "Will you show me?"

"With pleasure," John says as he lifts himself away from Sherlock. "After we get up – I am taking you to breakfast."

Sherlock resorts to immaturely burying his face in the pillow. A muffled response is all that is heard. "I am not _that kind_ of hungry."

John gulps, trying to contain his own mind from wandering. "Can we at least go for coffee? I – maybe I am just as shit as you with this."

Sherlock rolls over looking over John's flushed face with amusement. "Are you attempting to ask if we can go on a _date_ first?"

John nods. "I don't feel right without at least – uh, it's stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not idiotic," Sherlock states feeling more comfortable and utterly himself as he climbs out of bed. "It's gentlemanly, which is a trait of yours I do appreciate."

"Is that a yes?" John ponders awkwardly. Now they are both acting a bit like teenagers at the matter.

Sherlock grins. "Be ready in twenty minutes and we will go," Sherlock responds softly, leaning forward to place a kiss on John's cheek before moving to exit the room. He pauses for a moment and turns. "Not good?"

John takes a heavy breath before replying. "It was perfectly fine."

In exactly twenty minutes John is rushing to the door, grappling on the hooks trying to find his coat, perplexed when he can't. Sherlock taps him on the shoulder, indicating that he has the coat in his other hand. "I wouldn't have left without you if you were a minute late."

"I was being precautionary," John claims as he allows Sherlock to help him shrug into his coat.

"You didn't have to strive to look so well, you could have very well worn your pajamas and I wouldn't have cared," Sherlock murmured, leaning over so his lips can whisper in John's ear. "You could have worn nothing, actually, and I _definitely_ wouldn't have minded."

John shivers as Sherlock's hands move down from the arms of his jacket to grasp around John's hips, pressing himself forward against John's back. John leans his head back onto Sherlock's shoulder. "You aren't making it easy to be gentlemanly."

"I wasn't planning to make it easy," Sherlock whispers into John's ear before placing a kiss onto John's exposed throat. "I know enough about this area from research that we could be stuck in this flat all day, I am just…"

"Nervous?" John interjected, a small grin rising on his face. "It's okay to be nervous."

"I am not good with small talk, I am only good with the two of us," Sherlock ventures. "Dates are tedious and frightening to me, but if we must."

"We must," John says, collecting himself as he turns around in Sherlock's grip to face his detective. "After this, I don't care if you want to stay home for a week."

"Fuck," Sherlock mutters under his breath. Sherlock nearly never cursed, he thought it a useless part of language that wasn't worth venturing because it was too hostile. He's never felt such a need for that word until now. "We're sure you want to wait to teach me?"

"Teasing is half the fun," John says slowly, smiling as he takes Sherlock's hand and walks them out the door and out of the flat.

Mrs. Hudson stops them in the hall. "Hello boys, where are you off too?"

"The date that John insists on before shagging me, so if you would excuse us," Sherlock says, pulling John along curtly as John sputters in horror and apology as they rush out the door. "You were right, that was fun."

"Sherlock, bloody hell," John says in a reprimanding tone. "You shouldn't do that."

"You should know a date with me is going to be different than one with anyone else," Sherlock remarks as he hails them a cab. He pulls John into the taxi and snuggles up beside him. "Oh, and if it's teasing you are after, you've picked quite the person to mess with."

John sighs – he sparked a sort of game in Sherlock, and Sherlock was determined to win at all costs. It was helping Sherlock rationalize the idea of such a petty social outing to his mind palace, sure. It should seem utterly frustrating and demeaning to John. But, he had to admit to himself, he was drinking in every second of it like an addict on a bender.

Sherlock casually moves his hand first to John's thigh, and John gives Sherlock a warning look. Sherlock's expression shows nothing forward as he moves his hand up John's thigh and started palming the doctor's cock through his jeans, eliciting a deep hiss from John's lips. John looks into Sherlock's eyes, and the detective sees they are already darkening with lust. "You have no idea what you're starting."

Sherlock smiles deviously and yells up to the cabbie. "Listen driver, I am going to need you to aimlessly drive around town for a while and not look towards us. A hundred should do the trick, yes?" The driver just nods and takes Sherlock's money.

John looks at Sherlock incredulously. "What about coffee?"

"We are out," Sherlock states firmly. He leans over to John's ear and whispers. "Have you never been so aroused before that you have just wanted to climb your date on the way there?"

"Not with this much impatience and history," John replies hastily, feeling his hips thrust up into Sherlock's touch. "This is beyond teasing, this is torture."

"I didn't say it wasn't fair game," Sherlock says shortly, unbuckling himself from the restraints and removes his hand, waiting.

It takes seconds for John to give in, unbuckling his own belt before moving to straddle Sherlock's lap, hastily doing away at the buttons of Sherlock's coat. When they are all unbuttoned, he marvels at the erection that was hiding underneath. "Do you use your coat to hide that often?"

Sherlock flushes. "That perhaps might be the case, but not often, only sometimes in moments – particularly moments related to you."

"Can I kiss you?" John asks, hovering over Sherlock's lips so closely that their breath is already shared.

"Please," Sherlock asks in a desperate huff of breath, and John does.

John leans forward and captures Sherlock's lips passionately, too quickly for a first kiss but neither seems to care. It feels like they have waited far too long for this, both, and this could have been their hundredth kiss if they had only found the attraction sooner.

Sherlock starts to kiss back as fervently as he can until he feels his mind start to pour away in it and he panics. He pulls away in a tow and freezes. "Sherlock, what – what's wrong?"

"It all, it went away, I couldn't think," Sherlock says in a tow of panic.

John smiles understandingly and moves off of Sherlock's lap, taking the moment to address the cabbie. "To the closest coffee shop, keep the change."

The cab driver gives time for both of them to cool down from their arousals and share a long silence before finding a coffee shop and letting them out, thanking them for the generous tip. As soon as the driver pulls away, Sherlock looks to John apologetically.

"Don't you dare apologize," John says as he walks ahead of Sherlock into the coffee shop.

Sherlock can't find it in his mind to understand the behavior or the forgiveness, but follows John into the coffee shop nonetheless, eager to hear more. John orders both of them teas and some cookies before leading Sherlock to a table by a couch, which they both take their seats on.

Sherlock watches John, patiently waiting as he takes a first sip of his tea for John to explain. John takes a sip of his own tea as well before speaking. "Sherlock, I know you. I also know how a first kiss affects someone. You may play brave on these matters, but all moves are cautious, new. And how passion clouds a mind is scary for a regular person. For you, who lives in his own mind, it is worse."

"I felt lost and found at the same time, it was utterly confusing," Sherlock replies before picking up a cookie and examining it.

John smiles sweetly. "That's how it's supposed to feel."

Sherlock ponders that idea for a moment. "I didn't get enough time to figure out if I like that sensation or not."

John chuckles. "You will have lots of time to figure that out later if you'd like."

"I want to like the idea, but feelings are all laced with uncertainty – I prefer being certain, and it's not possible with emotions," Sherlock remarks, reaching up to rub his temples, still finding no way to escape to his mind palace.

John moves closer to Sherlock, pulling a hand up to caress the detective's cheek. "Can I try something, if it's simple and not embarrassing?"

Sherlock nods. John moves forward and places his lips more gently than the first time on Sherlock's. It's tentative, simple, Sherlock tries thinking it out in maneuvering in his head, the movements he's to make. Then the feelings seep in and his brain starts going mushy again, and it's all about the way John's lips feel against his and thought has disappeared into instinct.

Sherlock pulls away again. "It's frightening."

"Is it…pleasurable?" John asks tentatively.

"I lack a certain understanding in these matters," Sherlock says, more towards thinking out loud. "It was pleasurable, but that is what frightens me. The instinctual and animalistic side kicks in and my brain falls into emotional mush. I don't know how to handle that."

"Emotional mush isn't always a bad thing, Sherlock," John says, reaching for his tea to take another sip. Once he's finished a few more sips, and waits for Sherlock to sip some of his own tea, he speaks again. "I think that it's a matter of channeling. Instead of channeling through the power of your intellectual mind you are learning a new skill, channeling through a side you hardly have started to ponder into how to use."

Sherlock takes a few moments before nodding to the idea. He nibbles at a cookie, drinks some more tea, and just sits quietly as John does the same. "The way you explain it, does it come naturally?"

"With a little bit of effort," John replies with a refurbished smile.

Sherlock takes a deep breath before asking his next question. "Am I a decent kisser?"

John flushes. "You do just fine, Sherlock."

"Is that on the parameters grading towards your emotion towards me or is it more-so based on the fact of natural talent?" Sherlock asks slowly.

"What's next, Sherlock, you going to bring out an experiment notebook – all these questions, I am a human not an experiment subject," John says all too quickly.

Sherlock looks down at his tea and stirs it with a spoon, his mind finally starting to float away into his mind palace a bit. He needs to escape the notion that John cannot handle how he's trying to process entering a relationship as though it is all an experiment of sorts. "Can we go home now?" Sherlock asks in a monotone voice.

"Sherlock, I didn't mean," John tries to amend, but Sherlock is already getting up and is halfway out the door. John hurries after him as the same cab as before pulls up.

Sherlock looks back at John. "Are we still sharing a cab home?"

"Of course we're still sharing a bloody cab-" John starts before Sherlock walks away from him to the other side of the cab to get inside.

"The date didn't go well then, boys?" The driver asks.

John gives the driver a nasty look. "It went just fine. Is the fare covered for now?"

"Sure, that's fine. Where to next?" The cabbie asks.

John sighs. "You are taking me to Scotland Yard. Sherlock, do you want to go home?"

"Why are you going to the Yard?" Sherlock asks suspiciously

"To visit someone, now are you going home or not?" John asks Sherlock a second time.

Sherlock rolls his eyes as he rolls down his window. "Mycroft, go away. The coffee shop round the bend has good donuts."

Mycroft, which to John had just looked like a man simply sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, puts the paper down and glares at Sherlock. "I just need to speak with John for a moment."

Sherlock makes a hand gesture that said 'by all means' and John huffs as he gets out of the cab. John walks round to Sherlock's side before it could take off. "This is a cruel, cruel punishment."

"No, just simply a happy accident," Sherlock says with a grin as the cab takes off in the direction of Scotland Yard.

John walks up to Mycroft's bench and takes a seat beside the older Holmes brother. "Yes, no, I don't know – what do you want me to say today, Mycroft?"

"I want to ask you to be kind to Sherlock," Mycroft replies in a less harsh tone than normal.

John looks at Mycroft in disbelief. "What, no death threats today?"

"Sherlock isn't familiar with matters pertaining to romance, Dr. Watson, I advise you remember that he is only trying to rationalize to the best of his ability every one of his new emotions," Mycroft says softly.

John nods. "I just – it's frustrating when he treats me like an experiment and not someone he has feelings for, you understand that, right?"

"You also realize that Sherlock Holmes isn't built that way yet and he hasn't learned these things, and he is only learning in ways taught by you?" Mycroft adds. "He hasn't touched the realm of emotion before you, even practical friendly emotions, and now he's trying to learn but you aren't teaching him in the order he's expected and his brain is trying to over-accommodate itself for you."

John talks for a little while longer, in the most well-mannered argument he's perhaps ever had, on the ways to behave in a first-time relationship with the younger Holmes. They finally come to the conclusion that John should just go home and wait for him, which he does.

John goes home and Sherlock is already there, looking out the window, playing his violin. John walks until he is a few steps away from the detective before he speaks. "I didn't mean to chase you away."

"Did you have a productive chat with my brother?" Sherlock asks, not ceasing playing.

John sighs heavily as he takes a step away again. "More productive than usual – at least there wasn't any threats of death or bribes involved."

"That's an improvement," Sherlock states in a very monotone voice.

John takes a deep breath. "How long are you going to punish me for that comment?"

"I – what of what I am doing is to be considered punishment for your actions?" Sherlock asks slowly, truly confused as he places his violin down on a nearby chair. He follows John into the kitchen and actually starts to help make the tea for once. "If anything, I've deduced I should be the one apologizing to you. I treated you like an experiment rather than a person. I do that with many people, but I don't want it to be the same with us. I just wanted…I was processing things the only ways I know how. I told you I was shit at small talk."

John had to smile at that. "Who'd you go talk to?"

"I went to discuss the matter with Lestrade. Besides you, he is the closest I have to a confidant. He told me I should just wait home and apologize…which is what I am trying to do," Sherlock ventures, handing John a tea and going to curl up on an end of the couch with his own.

John joins him on the other side of the couch, not once taking his eyes off of the detective. "I meant to apologize as well – I didn't mean to make anything more difficult for you to process. I just want…I just want to feel like the person you are in love with rather than an experiment you could finish and get bored with."

Sherlock searches the doctor's eyes, seeing that he is being completely serious on that statement. "I get bored of a lot of things, Doctor Watson," he says smoothly, putting down his tea on the table. He grabs the tea from John and places it down on the table as well. "But never think for a second that it's possible that I could ever get bored of you."

John's breathing grows heavier as the detective hovers over him. The detective moves his slender hands up to spread the doctor's legs so he can maneuver himself in between them, trying once more to meld their lips together. It's tentative at first. Sherlock is really trying to focus. John can feel Sherlock's nerves and moves his hands to the detective's back, hoisting them together properly before moving his hand up to tangle in Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock pulls away after another minute, taking the time to breathe and really look at John. Flushed, grinning like an idiot John Watson that is just waiting for Sherlock to say something. "I can think, but it's not much," Sherlock mumbles.

"What – what are you thinking about?" John asks in a nervous tone, hoping it's not something totally unrelated and mood-ruining, but giving the detective the time to speak could help.

Sherlock shakes his head. "I am rudimentarily much more familiar with telling, but may I just _show_ you this time?"

"Oh God, yes," John replies and waits for Sherlock to continue, running with the detective's cues to let Sherlock pick what he wants by comfort and ask for what he wants to be taught to be taught.

Sherlock lays his lips on John's, letting himself at first run through his mind palace and find all the moments that he's wanted John, all kept in its own section. He sifts through anatomy and what to do but he's not quite clear on it all, and that's where John comes in handy because at least one of them has a decent amount of experience in this area.

John's hands wander down and grab Sherlock's behind, pulling their growing arousals closer to grind together as they kiss. Sherlock moans into John's lips and keeps moving on impulse, on a new ground that he's starting to particularly like when exploring properly. The detective's hands find their way down to the hem of John's jumper and shirt and start to tug at it.

John gladly moves back from Sherlock just long enough for his shirt to be removed as he works on the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. "Sherlock…you're sure about this, right?"

"I'm sure about you," Sherlock says after a moment of thinking. It's not only arousal keeping him sane it's the idea that his focus is entirely on John. The intellectual side, his mind palace, is taking on every opportunity and memory he's ever had with John that's been positive and/or where he's found himself realizing he's wanted John before any of this and using that as his intellectual fuel. The rest is instinct, and if there is something Sherlock Holmes will admit he enjoys its learning how to maintain a new level of control over his own body.

John pushes the shirt gently off of Sherlock's shoulders and discards it to the floor, looking at the crumpled heap its left in when he leaves it there. "Sherlock," John thinks for a moment that he might want to explain what he wants, but actions would be easier to keep Sherlock focused on one area instead of trying to mix more logic with emotion – the thing that Sherlock's having the most trouble with, it would seem. John gently pulls Sherlock off of his lap and takes the detective's hand, pulling him along until they've reached Sherlock's room. He wants this intimate memory to be in a place where neither of them has had an intimate experience before, he wants it to stay just them.

Sherlock catches on to the point of parting as they enter the room and leans down to catch John's lips with his again. This time it's more desperate, messy. Sherlock pushes John back onto the bed and starts kissing his way down the doctor. Sherlock finds himself stopping to put focus on a few spots on the army doctor's neck that elicit particularly good responses. He catalogues for later in the back of his mind that he might need to lend John a few of his scarves before he journeys lower.

When he finally reaches John's waistline, leaving a trail of small kisses along the divide between nakedness and trousers, the doctor reaches down at grabs his hand. "Only if you are sure," John says quietly, clearly evident he's a bit breathless already from Sherlock's efforts.

Sherlock undoes John's trousers and pushes them away first, eyeing the bulge in John's bright red trousers hungrily. Sherlock can't reply with words anymore or play a game of wits with John as he devours John's cock for the first time through his pants, soaking them and making John's hands curl up in the sheets on either side of him. "Sherlock, you, fuck," John can't form the right words. "It might be easier if you were to…"

"Teasing, John, it's called teasing," Sherlock says, winking at John once as he's pulled his mouth off of John's clothed cock just long enough to pull the pants from John and throw them to be discarded somewhere on his floor before taking the leaking member past his lips again, licking around the shaft and humming around the base as he bares down. It is a few minutes before he's got the idea to take his grip off of John's thighs and give John the opportunity to move.

John grabs Sherlock's hair and pulls him off with a pop. "Are you insane?"

"I think we both already know the answer to that question," Sherlock says before diving back down, allowing the hold on his curls to give him more motivation to bare down and let John do as his body desires.

John's body snaps up once and then continuously as it feels so good to thrust up into Sherlock's lips that it's absolutely maddening to the point where it's only a few minutes past that motion that he's almost ready to burst. He tugs on Sherlock's hair to pull him up. "Is this all you want for now? Because, I don't know much energy I have in me right now and one go might be it."

Sherlock nods, climbing off of John and lying beside him. It is no more than after a minute Sherlock turns his head to look at John. "Well, are you going to fuck me or not?"

John's eyes must have grown three sizes. "I, well, I could…do you want that?"

Sherlock nods, realizing that his bottoms are still on and does away at the buttons as he speaks. "I would suggest you get prepared because I have no idea how long my arousal lasts in these situations," Sherlock moans out as he brushes his palm over his own bulge on accident as he pushes away his trousers and pants.

John reaches into the drawer beside him and grabs a small bottle of lubrication before crawling back over to Sherlock. John squeezes lubrication onto his fingers and circles Sherlock's entrance. The detective hisses, feeling the burn of the first penetrative finger. He can sense John's concern. "I'm fine, John, keep going."

John nods and continues one finger at a time until he's reached three and finds that it comes in handy to be a doctor simply to know where the prostate should be and how to make your lover almost shake apart from pleasure is quite the arousing moment. "Sherlock, are you ready?"

"Been ready," Sherlock starts, not being able to finish as he shamelessly grinds down on John's fingers, hoping for more friction. "Now, John, do it now."

"I'm doing it," John says as he pulls out his fingers and gets to work lubricating his member.

"Have you done it?" Sherlock asks, clearly getting snippy from impatience.

"Yeah, hang on," John says before lining up with Sherlock's entrance. "You are one-hundred percent sure on this."

"Oh, for goodness sake," Sherlock says before pushing John onto the other side of the bed and climbing onto the doctor's lap, lining up the member again himself and sinking himself onto it. Sherlock winces a bit, having perhaps gone a bit too quickly trying to make his cocky display. "See?" Sherlock asks with his voice a bit higher than usual. "Totally fine, John."

John reaches up and strokes up and down Sherlock's thighs tentatively. "Don't over-exert yourself, stay seated for a moment and adjust. It's more difficult the first time."

"You talk like you have experience in that area," Sherlock scoffs breathlessly before noting John's cheeks flush the slightest bit. "Interesting."

"It was a long time ago, in college everyone experiments," John says, wanting to dodge the topic and get back to something much more pleasurable.

Sherlock smirks. "Of course, but let me ask you – did you like it?"

"It would have been better if the guy had meant shit-all to me, but yeah it got better after the first bit," John replies, grabbing round Sherlock's waist and flipping them over again, managing by some miracle with the grip on Sherlock's legs to keep them together, feeling as the long legs curl around his back.

"Would you let me try?" Sherlock asks, closing his eyes and making small sounds of pleasure as John re-adjusts to brush against his prostate. "John, move."

John pulls back once before snapping back into place, brushing against the right spot again and earning a louder moan from Sherlock. John's motions get faster and Sherlock continually get louder, though only a smidge louder than John himself. In between it all, when John could, he answers Sherlock's question. "That question…ah…next time…alright?"

"Amenable," Sherlock huffs out in between moans and stolen kisses in between thrusts, taking in as much of John as he can take. Sherlock's made to feel in bliss when John starts kissing along his pale neck and bear down and suck and bite on certain bits that elicit the most noise from Sherlock.

John continues to thrust until he hits a breaking point, reaching down and grabbing Sherlock's member in his hand and tugs on it sensually. "I need you to come, Sherlock, please. I can't last much longer."

Sherlock takes in all the sensations at once and does as John asks, exploding over both their chests before he feels his entrance tightening around John's member and setting John off to finish as well. When both their orgasms have been ridden through, John pulls out slowly and lies beside Sherlock.

"Well?" John asks, not knowing what other words to say even as there is a thousand that he could choose from.

"Well, experiment had excellent results," Sherlock says, feeling sated and calm. His mind palace was still running in the background but right now all he could focus on was the feeling of comfort with John beside him.

John smiles brightly. "I'm glad. I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you more than I've ever cared for anything else," Sherlock answers softly, learning the truth about it as he says it.

John takes a deep breath. "Now let's get cleaned up," John says, getting up standing away from the bed.

Sherlock shakes his head, curling into the pillow he's got his head rested on and pulls up the blankets like a cocoon around him. "I'm tired, I want to sleep."

"Come on, it'll be more comfortable to sleep without feeling sticky," John says, tapping on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Then come with a cloth if you must. I haven't slept but one night in three weeks and that was an exhausting feat of effort," Sherlock says as he lets his eyes slip closed. "Goodnight, John."

John smiles and leans down to kiss Sherlock on the top of his head of messy curls before reaching onto the door for Sherlock's robe and wrapping it around himself to head to the shower, having a feeling that the older Holmes might already be ready to knock in the door. The second John walks out of Sherlock's room the doorbell rings, confirming his suspicion and aiding the notion that they have to find the hidden camera's around the flat.

John opens the front door and glares at Mycroft. "Go away, nothing's wrong. My boyfriend, your brother, is asleep and actually has a smile on his face."

Mycroft smiles to the end of which he is capable. "Okay," Mycroft says, turning and walking back down the stairs.

John files that away under ways to get the older Holmes to leave them alone before grabbing a rag and cleaning himself off before going back to Sherlock's room and wiping the half-awake form of Sherlock Holmes clean as well, smiling as Sherlock pouts at him. "I will let you get back to sleep soon," John promises, going to walk away before he feels a hand on his arm. "Yes Sherlock?"

There's an amount of sentiment that Sherlock doesn't even understand himself in the gesture and the words that leave his mouth next. "Don't leave, come lay with me," Sherlock asks of John. John throws the rag he used to wipe them both off to the floor, forgetting he's wearing Sherlock's robe as he climbs into bed beside the detective, wrapping himself in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock grins. "You look quite good in my housecoat."

"You're welcome to any of my jumpers," John answers as he curls his head into Sherlock's shoulder, grinning. Maybe Sherlock could start understanding sentiment after all.


End file.
